The party
by Leah Day
Summary: A fic where some of Richard Armitage's and Lucy Griffith's characters come together to help Margaret Hale and John Thornton celebrate their engagement. Rated M for a lot of reasons.


_**The party**_

_**By Leah Day**_

_**Summary**_

It's Margaret and John's engagement party.

The invites have been sent.

Now all Hell's going to break loose.

Characters featured in this ditty are ….

Rebecca-sea of souls

Patrick Cleary-The little house

Claude Monet-The impressionists

Ruth Cleary-The little house

Chloe Covertly-Arcadia

The Ex-Billboard

Eric Northman-True Blood

Destiny-Three flat whites

Lucas North-Spooks

Nora-True blood

Sir Guy of Gisborne-Robin Hood BBC

A-Atman

John Thornton-North & South

Jenna Lestrande-Awakening

Margaret Thornton-North & South

Thorin Oakensheild-the hobbit

Lady Marian-Robin Hood BBC

_**Disclaimer**_

I do not own a thing. I wish I did. Rated M for unbridled wickedness! Written in Australian and UK grammar.

_**Thornton residence, Milton**_

"My God, how are we all going to fit?" Ruth Cleary asked her husband, Patrick.

"Well … according to my calculations …"

"Shut it, Chloe!" Jane Tarrant snapped.

"But-"

"No, no more talking about math! It's boring!" Jenna Lestrande replied, swishing her auburn locks.

"Says the Yankee ranga," Chloe muttered under her breath.

A reached out and smacked the back of her head.

"Oi!" she growled.

"Ow!" Chloe whined, rubbing the back of her head and pouting. "Did you write about doing that?"

"Wouldn't want to waste my paper, darls," A replied, smiling sweetly.

Rebecca tossed her head and fluffed her black mane.

"Today's the day," she sing songed. "Ohhh, better check my lippie!"

"Are you kidding? Becky, that's your fifth application in the last five minutes?" Nora complained, adjusting her oversized black umbrella and wiping disdainfully at her bloody right nostril.

"I need to get pregnant!" the sister of the night insisted, slathering on her blood red lipstick. "Sarah's had two more loads of babies! She'll leave me if I don't up my game!"

Chloe rolled her eyes.

"And they say we blondes are nutters," she muttered.

Smack!

"Ow!" she yelled and whipt around to see Ruth glaring angrily at her.

"Don't diss the blondes!" the woman snapped.

"Psycho," Rebecca sing-songed under her breath.

"Ah, Ruth … do you think you could hit me like that when we get home?" Patrick asked.

OoO

"Oh look!" A exclaimed.

The group of women and one man looked in the direction their companion was pointing in just in time to see a tall man dressed in black leather dismount a panting dark brown stallion then stride manfully over to help a very pretty dark haired girl dismount her light bay mare.

"Oh he's beautiful!" A sighed dramatically. "I didn't write about this!"

"By my calculations … he is bloody well fit!" Chloe added.

"Fresh meat," Jenna growled, salivating.

"I want to drink his blood," Nora replied. "He's the closest I'll ever get to a bloody fairy! He smells effing brilliant!"

"I want all my babies to look like him!" Rebecca simpered. "Cept the girls. No girl should have a snozzer that big."

"Bloody Hell!" Patrick groaned into his hand. "She'll never hit me now!"

"Watch it, ladies! We saw him first!"

The group of women looked over their shoulders and pouted in unison.

Striding confidently toward them were two young women. One had long blonde hair that cascaded in waves down her slender shoulders. The other had light brown, blonde streaked hair and earrings, a peacock on the left and a sea horse on the right, both accessories differed in size on either ear.

"What's this?" Rebecca demanded. "More blondes/"

"I'm Destiny," the woman with the odd earrings said with a broad grin.

"I'm the ex," the blonde replied.

"Your parents gave you these names?" A asked, puzzled.

"Funky parents," Ruth said to Patrick.

"Forget it, we're calling you Denise," Nora said flatly to the ex.

"Why Denise?" Patrick asked.

"What's the probability of Denise fitting, Chloe?" Jane asked, admiring the gold bracelet her own grovelling ex sent her last month.

"Not bad," Chloe replied with a grin.

"There you go," Rebecca replied smoothly.

"Ladies?"

The large gaggle of women turned around to see the leather clad man standing majestically before them.

The brunette girl was on his arm was staring at them with rapt curiosity.

"I am Sir Guy of Gisborne," he told them haughtily. "This is my betrothed, the lady Marian. Shall we go in?"

"Shag?" coughed Rebecca into her hand.

The girl on Sir Guy's arm shot a warning look at the succubus.

Gisborne offered his arm to A, who grinned dazzlingly.

"Somebody get that book and burn it!" snapped Jane.

"We can't. She had it booby trapped," Chloe muttered.

Seething with rage, the herd of women stomped into the house, following Guy, Marian's and A's lead.

Patrick, hung back, deciding it would not bode well for him to accompany his wife.

"I think I'd better call Mum," he mumbled then remembered she had died due to messing around with a faulty lawn mower and was not around to give him a cuddle … or smack him.

Damn!

_**Inside the Thornton residence**_

"No, you will not paint that!" John Thornton told Claude Monet adamantly. "You'll get paint everywhere and Margaret will have my hide."

"He's right, you know," agreed Lucas North. "You'll cop it when she sees her house in a mess."

"No one tosses the king of the dwarves!"

"Then take those muddy boots off!" came the less then dulcet reply of John Thornton's darling Margaret.

The door flung open and in swept Guy of Gisborne with A and Marian on his arm.

"I'm Sir Guy of Gisborne!" the knight declared self importantly.

"Sit down and have a drink, mate," Lucas said, winking at Marian and A.

"I would, but I'm wearing tighter pants then usual."

A bowed her head, blushing.

Marian sighed.

"We're all wearing tighter clothes," Claude agreed miserably. "Except that bombastic dwarf. Mon Dieu! He's in trackie dacks and armour."

"He's really let himself go," John agreed, adjusting his cravat.

"I blame that elf queen that makes all the dwarves go bonkers," Lucas replied. "What's her name? Cate?"

"Galadriel," A replied, "don't you read?"

Lucas grinned at her saucily.

"I'll read the karma sutra for you if you want, gorgeous," he replied smoothly.

A abruptly let go of Gisborne's arm and grabbed hold of Lucas

"There's a bedroom near here," she told him brightly. "Off we go!"

"Can I paint this?" Claude asked.

"No!" Lucas bellowed from over his shoulder.

OoO

Ding, ding, ding!

"Tea is ready," Margaret Hale announced, glaring a silent, ominous warning at all the newly arrived women in her home.

"Tea?" Thorin Oakenshield bellowed. "I'm too important for tea! I want mead!"

He slammed his clenched fist hard on the wooden table he sat beside thus making it rattle.

The blokes and the ladies all gave many, many colourful explicit words whilst Margaret flushing very hard, spun on her heel and strode furiously for the kitchen.

"Do you have any True Blood?" Nora asked Margaret politely, before she could disappear from their view.

"Any what … What? Blood! Oh my!"

Margaret swooned and fell onto the floor.

Nora pouted.

"Corsets. Not such happy days," she mumbled disapprovingly.

Thornton groaned and pinched his nose.

OoO

"Patrick? What took you so long?" Ruth asked.

"I forgot Mum was dead," Patrick mumbled.

"Oh my poor baby!"

Slam!

"Why can't we do it at that angle?" Lucas demanded, trialling after A.

"Because it's not an actual position and you stink!" A fired back. "My god! I've smelt a few arm pits in my time but yours are almost lethal weapons!"

Lucas, to every ones amazement, started to sniff and then cry.

"I was in a Russian prison for a very, very long time! I forget to put deodorant on!"

A couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Someone get rid of the god awful stink in the boudoir!" Mr Thornton growled. "Mother will do her nut!"

"Where's my book?" A squealed then remembered and scurried off to write about Lucas' BO and perhaps getting another shag.

"Stop bleeding on the carpet!" Margret cried, now back on her feet and wearing a looser corset. "It is quite expensive!"

"Persian?" Rebecca asked.

"No."

"Then I will have the bleeds where I like. You'll just have to put up with it till nightfall. Toodleloo, madam!"

"Someone get me a rock!" Margret roared.

"Not rocks. We've just had the wallpaper mother picked put up."

"Your mother's wallpapers kinda suck, darling," Nora taunted.

John's nostril's flared.

"You do not insult my mother!" he bellowed.

"Nor do you behave in such a naughty, lewed fashion you … you … Slatteren!" Margaret added passionately.

"Can I paint this?" Claude asked.

"No!"

Nora couldn't take it anymore.

"Kill the bitch!" she yelled and sprung toward Margaret …. Only to miss Margaret and fall out of an open window.

"How did you do that?" A asked.

"A virtuous woman's intuition," Margaret replied a little smug.

"May I paint you oh virtuous lady?" Monet asked hopefully.

Margaret was about to reply when Lucas interrupted.

"Can you smell something?" he asked.

"What? Besides your arm pits?" John grumbled.

"No, something's burning."

All of a sudden, the door flew open and there, underneath a giant umbrella, steaming and bloody, were Nora and an impossibly tall blonde male vampire.

"Excuse me!" the tall man boomed. "Who made my baby sister fall out of a window?"

Thud.

Margaret had fainted again.

Guy turned to Marian.

"Do you think we should relocate to Nottingham Castle?"

_**The end!**_

_**Authors note!**_

Can Marian and Guy secure Notty castle for the engagement party of the century? Will Rebecca be able to have her horde of demonic babies? Will Claude ever get to paint something? Will Lucas North ever remember to put on deodorant? Also, is Eric sexier then Guy?

Guess what! That's for you to decide!

The bit about Lucas forgetting to put on deodorant is something my mum pointed out when we were watching Spooks series 7, we are both firm believers in deodorant and Lucas, to our knowledge, isn't, therefore we call him "stinky pom" a "Pom" or "Pommy" is basically a nick name for Brits in Australia and New Zealand.

This was orgianally going to be a Gerard Butler and Justine Waddell character combo humour fic, but I'm not a big fan of Gerard's anymore and Justine Waddell characters are actually quite hard to write about, save Zoya from Mishen, aka, Target.

Thanks for reading :D Leah.


End file.
